


For Your Entertainment

by withthekeyisking



Category: Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Belting, Blindfolds, Bottom Jason Todd, Breathplay, Choking, Coming Untouched, Dom Dick Grayson, Face-Fucking, Light Bondage, M/M, POV Multiple, Praise Kink, Slade is along for the ride, Sub Jason Todd, Top Dick Grayson, Top Slade Wilson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:35:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26379664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withthekeyisking/pseuds/withthekeyisking
Summary: When Jason told his boyfriend about his fantasies about Deathstroke, he didn't expect Dick to actually invite the mercenary over for some fun.He should've learned by now to expect the unexpected with Dick Grayson, because that isdefinitelySlade Wilson standing in their kitchen.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd/Slade Wilson, Jason Todd/Slade Wilson
Comments: 41
Kudos: 323





	For Your Entertainment

Things Jason was not expecting upon returning to his apartment:

  1. The place cleaner than he'd left it, which is incredibly rare considering between the two of them Dick is definitely the messier one.
  2. Slade Wilson lounging in the kitchen.



Jason stares at him for two seconds—taking in the casual jeans and t-shirt, the relaxed stance, the beer in his hand—and then decides that Slade isn't here for a fight, but it's still _really fucking weird_ that he's here at all.

Slade looks back at him, amusement clear, offering no explanation. "Hey, Red. Welcome home."

Jason frowns. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Slade doesn't look like he plans on being forthcoming any time soon, but luckily a familiar set of footsteps approach the kitchen and Dick is stepping into view. Dick smiles at him, warm and wide in a way that still makes Jason's gut clench even a year into their relationship.

"Hey, Jay," Dick greets. "How'd the mission go?"

Jason's frown deepens. He isn't interested in catching up or making small talk, not with a highly skilled mercenary standing just a few feet away. He wants to know what's going on.

Clearly seeing that he's not in the mood for evasion, Dick walks over to him, gently squeezing his arm. "We'll be right back," he says over his shoulder to Slade, and then pulls Jason down the hall towards their bedroom.

"Take your time," Slade calls after them, humor wrapped around each syllable.

"What the hell is going on?" Jason demands once he and Dick are behind the closed door of their bedroom. He knows Slade's hearing is enhanced, so the distance probably doesn't make any difference in regards to if their conversation is being listened to, but it makes Jason feel better, less _watched._

Dick leans against his dresser, crossing his ankles and offering Jason a mischievous smile. "Just following through on a wish of yours, babe. I thought you'd like this surprise."

It takes Jason a minute to realize what Dick's talking about, and his face flames bright red.

"That'll teach me not to get drunk around you anymore," he mutters.

"Aww, Jaybird," Dick coos, smile growing, "are you saying you _don't_ like my surprise?"

Jason's cheeks get even hotter. Because, okay, _maybe_ he said something to Dick about finding Slade attractive. _Maybe_ he described various things he would like to do to the mercenary, and have the mercenary do to him.

But that was just—drunk talk. People say things when they're drunk, and in the company of those they trust. It's not like he ever thought he'd _actually_ hook up with Slade; he's in a happily committed relationship with Dick. A few... _fantasies_ weren't going to get in the way.

But Dick brought Slade over. Dick _brought S_ _lade over._

Dick pushes off the dresser and steps closer to him. He reaches up and brushes a hand through Jason's hair before cupping his cheek, and Jason leans into the gentle touch.

"If you want him to go," Dick says, catching Jason's gaze and holding the eye contact, "then I'll tell him to go. You're under no obligation here, Little Wing. If this isn't something you want then we don't do it, end of story."

Jason knows that Dick means it. That if Jason says he was just kidding and doesn't want this, then Dick won't hesitate to kick Deathstroke the Terminator out of their apartment and make sure he goes. There's something very...sweet about that, and steady in a way that for a long time Jason didn't think he'd ever have. He can count on Dick, he knows. He trusts him. It's the only reason he's given so much of himself to him.

"I'm..." Jason starts, and breaks the eye contact out of embarrassment. "Yeah, I want."

Dick leans in and kisses him, slow and deep, and Jason relaxes against him, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend. Dick helps him out of his jacket, sliding it down his arms and then tossing it onto the bed before breaking the kiss.

"You get undressed and into position," Dick says against his lips, the pair of them sharing the same breath, "and I'll be right back with company."

 _Into position._ Oh Jesus fuck, okay, they're really gonna do it, and do it like that. Slade is gonna see him like— _Deathstroke the Fucking Terminator_ is gonna see him like—

Dick pulls back just enough to look in his eyes, and Jason knows his boyfriend is looking for the final okay. Jason can't bring himself to say it, but he nods.

Dick smiles at him and pushes a lock of hair behind his ear, fingers gentle. Far gentler than they will be in the near future, Jason knows.

"You sure?" Dick asks, and Jason nods again. "You got it, babe. And you know if you ever want to stop—"

"I safeword, I know."

That's easy for Jason to say, and to mean it; he's had a few horrible doms in the past, ones who didn't like to be told _'no'_ or made Jason feel guilty for safewording, but Dick isn't one of them. When he tells Jason to safeword if he's uncomfortable, he really wants him to.

Dick presses one last light kiss to his lips and then pulls back completely, mischievous grin once again in place. "I'll see you soon."

Jason listens to Dick pad back down the hall and the quiet murmur of voices coming from the kitchen, and then purposefully tunes them out, taking a few deep breaths.

He does want this. In fact it's kind of blowing his mind that it's about to happen, that Dick is actually bringing Slade into their bedroom activities. What does Slade think of all this? Does he know the...particulars of what to expect tonight? He doubts Deathstroke is a vanilla sort of guy, but you know what they say about assumptions. Though Dick wouldn't put any of them into a situation that he thought would end poorly; he has Jason's back. This is gonna be fine.

Taking one last steadying breath, Jason starts to strip.

* * *

Dick closes the bedroom door behind himself and heads back down the hall towards the kitchen. Slade is just where they left him, leaning against the countertop, and he's taking a slow drag from his beer bottle as Dick steps back into view.

"How's your boy?" Slade asks, and Dick smiles at the phrasing. _His boy._ Yes, he likes to think so. Especially on nights like this.

Dick is pretty sure Slade was listening in—the man's respect for boundaries like that is limited, and it's not like Dick tried very hard to remove them from his hearing range—but nonetheless he confirms, "He's good. And on board. Just gonna give him a minute to get settled and then we can go in."

Slade hums, nodding his agreement, watching Dick over the end of his bottle as he takes another sip.

"Well?" Dick prompts, amused. He knows Slade wants to say something, and he's game for any questions. When he invited Slade here and told him what he was planning, the other man only had a few conditions and one of them was that Dick be completely honest with him. Dick agreed, as long as the questions steer clear of work-related subjects.

"Just didn't expect this from you," Slade says, a question rolled into a statement.

Dick snorts. "Which part? Inviting a mercenary over for sex because my boyfriend is interested, or the _position_ I take in the bedroom?"

Slade wouldn't be the first to make such a comment when learning Dick's preferences; people seem to expect that Dick being a solid bottom and maybe even a sub if they veer into the kinky, and then are very surprised when they learn that Dick is happy catching but would far rather pitch, and _definitely_ doesn't fall anywhere close to submissive.

The fact that he's dating Jason now doesn't help the perception, since the younger man gets the exact opposite assumptions made about him. Their first time together was a shock on multiple fronts, that's for sure, and definitely a lot of relief. Dick and Jason meld together perfectly, if not for the reasons the public expects.

"Oh I'm not even slightly surprised that you get bossy when you fuck," Slade says, waving a hand dismissively. "You're a control freak, Grayson, and the fact that that extends to your sex life is no shocker. No, I mean I wouldn't have expected you inviting _anyone_ to share your—what is it?— _Little Wing._ You strike me as...somewhat possessive."

Dick crooks a smile at him, choosing to not take offense to any of what Slade just said. He's feeling pretty content right now, _his boy_ in the other room getting ready, and unless Slade steps out of bounds, Dick doesn't mind a few pointed comments about his relationship with control.

"You said it yourself," Dick says lightly. "He's _my Little Wing._ Your enhanced dick isn't going to change that."

Slade barks a laugh and salutes him with his beer. "Fair enough, Grayson. Don't worry, I'm playing ball."

Dick hopes he sticks to that; they agreed, after all. _Slade_ agreed that Dick was in charge tonight. Now, Dick knows that that control is tenuous at best, that Slade is not one to enjoy being told what to do (then again, he _did_ marry his superior officer), but he thinks Slade is going to stick to the plan. Sticking to the plan means he gets to fuck Jason, after all; what's it to Slade if he just has to wait until Dick says he can?

Dick _really_ hopes this is going to go as it's supposed to. Jason is going to be extremely vulnerable, and will be counting on Dick to keep him safe. Dick's pretty sure he knows Slade well enough to say that Slade would never hurt someone in this way, but things are never truly one-hundred percent. He knows where each weapon is in their bedroom, and will be situating himself near quite a few of them once they're settled. He'll protect Jason.

"He hasn't moved for about twenty seconds," Slade tells him.

Dick hums. "How's his heartbeat?"

"Very steady."

Dick smiles. "Excellent." He cocks his head. "You can still back out, Slade. You get a safeword too."

Slade looks very unimpressed with his teasing words, and Dick smirks. "If I want something to stop," Slade drawls, "then trust me, I can get it to stop."

Pretty sure that that's the closest he's going to get to Slade saying _'no means no',_ Dick nods. "Alright, then. Follow me."

When Dick opens his bedroom door, his breath catches at the sight before him, the same way it does every time, even a year into their relationship.

Jason kneels in the center of their bedroom, naked. His palms are flat on his thighs, his head ever so slightly bowed. Dick knows his eyes are closed, and sees his chest rising and falling in slow, even breaths. He looks absolutely stunning. He's a fucking _gift._

Behind him, Slade whistles. Jason's fingers twitch in response, but his posture stays relaxed and open. His breathing remains calm. Dick smiles.

"Gorgeous, isn't he?" Dick says, not taking his eyes off the kneeling man. He steps further into the room, approaching Jason, and slides his fingers through his boy's hair, scratching his scalp lightly, tugging gently at the strands. Jason leans into his touch.

"I like a body with scars," Slade agrees.

Scars are something Jason definitely does have. A lot of them, none of them gentle, all of them making up who he is. Dick's spent quite a lot of time mapping Jason's body, paying attention to each and every scar, lavishing them with attention until Jason was writhing beneath him and begging to be fucked.

"Pick two," Dick murmurs to Jason, leisurely stroking through his hair.

Jason knows what he means, and his tongue darts out briefly to wet his lips before he says, "Blindfold and cuffs, please, Sir."

Dick leans down and presses a gentle kiss to Jason's forehead, pleased at the easy answer. Jason's behavior when they scene varies wildly from extremely obedient to unruly brat, and Dick absolutely enjoys every shade of Jason. But today he was definitely hoping for something like this, some extra level of control while introducing a third person into their plans. Seems Jason's on the same page as him.

"Very good. Get them for me."

Jason doesn't hesitate, standing up and walking over to the chest where they keep their toys. Dick takes the opportunity to glance around; the clothes Jason was wearing are neatly folded on top of the desk, and his jacket still rests on the bed where Dick tossed it. That makes Dick smile again; he's sure that Jason had felt the urge to hang his jacket up, but he'd left it, unsure whether or not Dick putting it there was purposeful.

It wasn't, but now that it's there he kind of feels like wearing it. So he picks it up as he walks over to the comfortable armchair next to the bed and slides it on before sitting down. Slade is still standing by the door, a look on his face somewhere between intrigued and amused. Both are emotions Dick can work with, so he leaves the mercenary be.

Jason returns to him soon enough, kneeling in front of him and offering the items he'd retrieved. Dick sees his eyes flare briefly with pleasure when he sees that Dick's wearing his jacket, and it makes Dick chuckle; Jason can be just as possessive as Dick can, if not more so. Wearing Jason's clothes is always a surefire way to draw that out.

"Very good," Dick says again, taking the items from Jason.

They have a few versions of various tools, and the blindfold Jason's chosen is the simple black one instead of the bright red one Dick had left on top, simply for the amusement of knowing Jason would see it and get embarrassed. The cuffs are some of their best; sturdy and supple, with solid locks but comfortable padding so that Jason doesn't rub his wrists raw twisting against them.

Dick glances back to Slade, and holds up the blindfold in offering.

Slade smirks and pushes off the wall, closing the distance easily to pluck the fabric out off Dick's hand. Jason tenses slightly as Slade crouches behind him, but he doesn't shift away, holding still as Slade ties the blindfold around his eyes and as Dick slides the cuffs around his wrists, securing them in place and to each other. Jason tugs against them, testing, and Dick hears a faint, pleased noise escape him at the fact that they hold up under his strength.

"Now, Slade," Dick says, petting Jason's hair, when everything is in place and Slade is standing again. "You have a couple of options here. Because, well, Jay's voiced quite a few... _desires_ in regards to you, and I figure you're our _guest,_ so I can give you final say."

Slade's eyebrows go up. "What options might those be?" he asks dryly.

"You can take your belt and beat his ass raw," Dick says lightly, and enjoys the way Jason's breath catches at his blunt words. "You can wrap your hand around his throat and _squeeze_ as you fuck it. And of course fuck him into the mattress as hard as you like and not stop until he's begging you to come."

All things Dick has very much enjoying doing with Jason. All things he's sure enhanced strength will add a little extra something to.

"You won't be participating?" Slade asks curiously, probably taking note of how Dick didn't include himself in any of that.

"Not tonight."

"You never struck me as a voyeur," Slade comments.

"I am far more of an exhibitionist," Dick agrees with a crooked smile. "But not tonight. So, what'll it be?"

Slade smirks.

* * *

Earlier in the day, when Slade first got the call from Grayson, he'd definitely been curious. It's not everyday that a hero reaches out to him, even one like Nightwing who he's known for quite a long time. And then the invitation to go over to his actual _apartment?_ Yes, color Slade curious.

The curiosity switched to incredulity as Grayson explained what he wanted for the evening, and then slid into satisfaction. It didn't take him much at all to agree, even with Grayson's silly conditions.

Slade definitely finds Red Hood attractive. He likes competency and someone who knows their way around a weapon, and Jason Todd has that in spades. Slade can easily admit he's imagined fucking Todd against a hard surface or two, so being invited by the boy's boyfriend—especially when that boyfriend is _Dick Grayson_ —to do so? Well, Slade would be an idiot to turn it down.

He's definitely pleased he didn't, looking down at the kneeling, naked form of one Jason Todd, pale skin already flushing despite the fact that they haven't done anything yet, wrists bound together and eyes blinded. He sure makes a pretty picture.

Grayson doesn't look half bad either, sprawled out in an armchair like a king holding court. His t-shirt and sweatpants are simple, but the powerful way he holds himself is attractive, as is the sharp look in his eyes. The jacket helps, too. Todd's more to Slade's tastes than Grayson is—he likes 'em big, and he doesn't have any interest in fighting Grayson's control issues—but if Grayson offered, Slade certainly wouldn't turn him down. It's not like he's unattractive or incompetent.

Then he'd get to check off two of the Bat's birds.

But for now, the focus of this evening is waiting for some attention.

"I don't see why I can't do all of the above," Slade says, and Grayson grins at him, sharp and approving.

"Jason, do you want Slade to fuck your throat?"

Slade hears the kid's heart stutter in his chest at the words, breath hitching, but he does manage to sound completely calm when he says, "Yes, Sir."

"Good boy," Dick murmurs. "Go on, then."

He leans back in the chair, untangling his fingers from where they rested in Todd's hair. As soon as he's released, Todd shuffles around on his knees, turning towards Slade. He doesn't hesitate to lean in and locate Slade's zipper, clamping his teeth around it and pulling down, then opening the button much the same way. A neat trick. Slade's tempted to not intervene, to see what Todd's plan is when it comes to his belt, but his wish to get on with this outweighs his potential amusement.

So Slade reaches down and undoes his belt himself, then slides it out completely and tosses it onto the bed for future use. He pushes his pants down a little and pulls out his cock, stroking himself a few times. He sees Grayson's head tilt, something appraising and maybe _admiring_ in his gaze as he takes in Slade's size, and Slade can't help but smirk at him.

When Grayson sees him staring back he flushes slightly, but then rolls his eyes and looks at Todd pointedly.

Not that he needs to give Slade the reminder; Todd's already moving forward, mouthing along Slade's cock, kittenish licks and kisses that transform quickly into long strokes of his tongue and then taking him into his mouth, pushing all the way down and then pulling up slowly, swirling his tongue around the head before repeating the process.

Grayson lifts a bare foot and places it in the small of Todd's back, pushing him forward. Todd moves with it, allowing Grayson to push him all the way down Slade's cock, not stopping until his nose is pressed against Slade's pubes.

"Well?" Grayson says, cocking an eyebrow at Slade. "Go to town."

Slade isn't going to turn down an invitation like that; if Todd wants to be used by Deathstroke, then Slade is happy to oblige.

He snaps his hips forward, planting a hand on the back of Todd's head to keep the kid in place. Todd chokes for a moment but relaxes into it in the next, staying in place and letting Slade fuck his throat the way he wants to. Todd swallows around him, drawing a quiet groan out of Slade, and faintly Slade notices Grayson smiling.

"He's got quite the mouth, doesn't he?" Grayson says, offhand. Slade only grunts in response; he knows the talk isn't for him, not really, and he couldn't give less of a shit. "Yeah, he does. Always takes it so beautifully."

Todd whines around Slade, tongue flicking against the underside of his cock. He leans into Slade's next thrust, and it makes Slade chuckle, like Todd is trying to prove that Grayson's words are true.

Remembering Grayson's words from before, Slade reaches down with his free hand and wraps it tightly around Todd's throat. The boy jolts and moans, dragging in a strained breath, and it makes Slade smirk.

After another minute, Grayson says, "Pull out."

Slade narrows his eye at him, displeased. Grayson meets his gaze steadily, not backing down, simply waiting, and with a scowl Slade forces himself to listen; he did say he'd follow Grayson's lead with his boy. He has no doubt that Grayson is willing to start a fight over it, which would be a complete waste of a naked and horny kid.

When Slade pulls out and lets go, Todd coughs, shoulders hunching, drool dribbling down his chin. Grayson is standing behind him in the next moment, sliding his fingers through Todd's hair in a gentle gesture that changes just as quickly as it arrived; Grayson grabs Todd's hair roughly, yanking his head back and arching his throat, and then smiles sickly sweet down at him.

"Hey, baby," Grayson coos. Todd blinks underneath the blindfold, panting heavily. "Why don't you bend over the bed for us, hm?"

Todd nods as much as he can in his current position. "Yes, Sir."

"Good boy."

Grayson releases him and steps back to give him some room to move, and Todd crawls over to the bed, an action that draws a pleased hum out of Grayson. Todd lifts himself up, bending over the edge of the bed, ass raised in the air.

"Still want to belt him?" Grayson asks casually, moving over to the head of the bed and sitting down against the headboard, crossing his legs. He's hard, Slade can see, but makes no move to touch himself. "He bruises so prettily."

Yes, Slade can imagine. He knows Todd can take a beating, has seen him take quite a lot out in the field. It makes Slade very curious about how much it would take to break the kid apart, to have him crying and begging and trembling. He'd like to see Grayson much the same way. Something to consider for the future.

Instead of answering, Slade picks up the belt and bends it in half, then snaps it. That sound used to make Grant jump, but Todd doesn't flinch. If anything, he seems to relax further into the bed.

"Jay, you're gonna count the strikes," Grayson instructs. "And you're gonna thank Slade for each and every one."

Todd moans, the sound just slightly muffled against the bed, and says, "Yes, Sir."

Slade snaps the belt down as soon as the kid is done speaking, striking him right across the meat of his ass, and Todd jerks, a rough breath escaping him.

"One. Thank you, um..."

Doesn't seem to know how to address him in this setting, it seems. Grayson looks amused.

"As I recall," Grayson muses, "I think Slade likes to be called _Master."_

Slade sends him a flat look, and Grayson sends a shit-eating grin right back at him.

"My name will work just fine," Slade says dryly, and Grayson shrugs a shoulder, still smiling.

"Suit yourself. You got that, Jaybird?"

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Slade."

Slade brings the belt down again, hard enough that Todd yelps.

"Two. Thank you, Slade."

There's something rather appealing about this; Slade's beaten quite a few people over the course of his career, but he has to say this is the first time someone's _thanked_ him for the blows. No wonder Grayson enjoys this so much—the power is heady, and Slade is already powerful enough in his own right. Definitely makes the idea of taking Todd with him after this very appealing.

Slade brings the belt down again, across his thighs this time, and once again Todd thanks him. So Slade keeps going. And Todd keeps counting and offering gratitude, even when his voice starts to break, even when mottled bruises start to form, even when one strike hits his balls and drags a scream out of him.

"Enough," Grayson says, when Todd eventually stumbles over his words, hesitating to speak.

Slade lets the belt drop, and watches Grayson slide closer to Todd, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple and murmuring soothing things in his ear. Todd is practically boneless against the bed, face streaked with tears, lips bright red from having been biting them, ass and thighs turning blue and purple, and he whines deep in his chest when Grayson tells him how beautifully he took the beating.

"Give me a color, babe," Grayson requests quietly, smoothing his hand over Todd's hair.

Todd pants wetly for two breaths and then says, "Green. 'M good, Sir. 'M good. Green. Please. Please."

Grayson smiles. "How can I say no to a request like that? Come on, Jay, up on the bed."

Todd does as he's told, climbing the rest of the way onto the bed and then moving to where Grayson pulls him, on his knees in the center of the bed, chest pressed against the sheets. Grayson reaches for Todd's hands and disconnects the cuffs from each other, then attaches one of them to the headboard. In Todd's other hand, Grayson squirts out a handful of lube.

"Stretch yourself, Little Wing."

Todd's breath catches and he nods slightly, then reaches back around himself, inserting two fingers into his ass in one go. It's a pretty sight, that's for sure. Makes Slade hungry just watching.

Grayson, however, gets off the bed and heads towards the door, completely ignoring the view.

"Want anything to drink?" Grayson calls over his shoulder, and Slade knows he's talking to him, not Todd.

Slade doesn't bother responding, watching the way the bruises he left behind move as Todd does his best to stretch himself with one hand. Delicious little whimpers and whines are escaping him, and Slade looks forward to making the kid scream again.

Todd has four fingers in himself by the time Grayson returns, and is rocking back against them, seemingly unaware of his audience now. Grayson takes a casual sip from the glass of water in his hand, and Slade has to admit he admires the man's control. Doesn't see the point to it, maybe, but it's impressive nonetheless.

"Stop," Grayson says. It's calm and casual, voice not raised at all, but Todd freezes like the word was shouted.

"Please, Sir..."

Something sparks in Grayson's eyes, but his voice is still calm when he says, "Don't worry, Little Wing, we're almost there. You come when I say. Take your fingers out of your ass."

Todd does as he's told, whimpering as his fingers pull against some of the bruises, and puts him hand up by the headboard. Grayson approaches and places his glass on the bedside table, then attaches the cuff to the headboard, securing Todd in place.

Then he sits back down in the armchair and picks up his glass, taking a slow sip. He smiles at Slade, and Slade takes it as the permission it is.

He climbs onto the bed behind Todd, taking a moment to admire the swell of his bruised ass. He runs his hands over it and squeezes, kneading at the colored flesh. Todd shouts, low in his chest, a sound that tapers off to a whine. When Slade reaches underneath him, he finds that Todd is rock hard.

"Don't touch his dick," Grayson says, and it briefly makes Slade wonder how Grayson feels about using his own name that way. "He'll come on yours or not at all."

Todd moans, wrists twisting in their cuffs.

Slade releases his hold on the boy's cock and instead guides his own towards the boy's entrance, pushing in with one smooth thrust. Todd sucks in a rough breath, groaning, and Slade gives him a couple seconds to adjust to his size before he pulls out and thrusts back in quickly, hands clamping down on his hips to pull him back against him, which yanks at the cuffs.

Todd whines at the rough treatment, but doesn't actually seem upset about it, moving with Slade's rhythm and clenching down around him, making Slade bite out a curse.

"Feels good, Slade?" Grayson asks, sounding amused.

"Yes," Slade grits out. _"Fuck."_

He snaps his hips forward again and again, fucking deep and hard into Todd. The boy writhes underneath him, whining and whimpering, the sounds music to his ears. When Slade starts punching at his prostate on each thrust, Todd _screams,_ and it makes a sharp smile pull at Slade's lips.

"That's right, boy," he rumbles. "You really are so good at taking it, aren't you? Fuck."

Todd moans, and Grayson hums. "He really is."

Slade's starting to get close. Apparently seeing that, Grayson says, "Don't come inside him."

Slade growls, but nods, yanking Todd back against him roughly. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Grayson lean forward, forearms braced on his thighs.

"Jason," Grayson calls, and Todd twists his head to the side, leaning it in the direction of his boyfriend's voice. "You want to come?"

Todd groans out, "Yes, Sir. Yes, please—" His voice breaks, the words cutting off.

Grayson smiles. He watches Todd's face for another beat, two, three, and then says, "Come, Little Wing."

Todd moans and comes on command, a shudder running down his spine before collapsing boneless against the bed.

Slade takes advantage of the sudden pliantness, heaving Todd onto his lap and fucking quick and rough into him. When he feels the pleasure building, when he knows he's _right_ on the edge, he pulls out and comes on Todd's back, stroking himself through his orgasm.

When he's finished, he carefully pulls back, setting Todd down on the bed. The blindfold's ridden up, bunched on his forehead, and Todd pants against the sheets, eyes half-lidded, gaze searching. When his eyes land on Grayson, he makes a soft, pleading noise.

Grayson is instantly by his side, one hand cupping his cheek gently. "What do you need, baby?"

"Please, Dick, please..." Todd whispers, and his head tips up mouthing at Grayson's thigh by his groin. Grayson's breath hitches but he purses his lips.

"Words, Jaybird. Tell me what you want."

Todd blinks big blue-green eyes up at him, plump lips parted and tongue peeking out, and Slade knows he'd already be burying himself in that mouth if someone gave him a look like that.

"Come on my face, Sir, Dickie, please..."

Grayson swallows. His eyes dart up to Slade and then back to Todd, quick enough that a regular person probably would've missed it. The reason for his hesitance is obvious, even if Slade doesn't understand it.

Despite his hesitance, however, Grayson _does_ pull his hard cock out of his sweatpants. He's thinner and shorter than Slade, but still a pretty respectable size, all things considered. He also looks hard enough to be seconds away from coming, so when Grayson wraps a hand around himself and strokes roughly, coming after only eight strokes, Slade isn't surprised.

Todd tilts up into it, eyelids fluttering shut as Grayson's cum hits his face. With his lips parted some of it lands in his mouth, and he doesn't hesitate to swallow, licking his lips and the area around his mouth clean as well.

Damn, it's going to be hard for Slade to not picture this every time he sees Todd out in the field. He wonders how Todd is going to act around him now; the kid's a professional, but he also blushes at the drop of a hat. Should be interesting, at the very least.

Slade swings his legs over the edge of the bed and stands up with a grunt, tucking himself back into his pants. As he fetches his belt, he watches Grayson kiss Todd deeply, seemingly unbothered by the way his own cum sticks to his face.

Grayson pulls away slightly, murmuring, "I'll be right back," against Todd's lips, and then crawls off the bed. He passes Slade without a word, moving towards the bathroom. Slade hears a faucet turn on and then off, and then Grayson is returning with a wet washcloth.

He unhooks Todd's wrists from the headboard and Slade slides his belt back into place, buckling it. Grayson cleans off Todd's face gently, and then moves the washcloth to his back where Slade's cum is pooled, all the while murmuring sweet nothings.

Satisfied that they're both settled, Slade turns for the door, heading down the hall.

He's only just reached the kitchen when he hears Grayson following him, the kid calling out softly, "Hey, Slade, wait."

Slade turns back to him, cocking an eyebrow, and Grayson stops about three feet away from him.

The kid offers him a smile. "You can stay, you know. Aftercare is good for everyone, not just the one who got fucked."

Slade barks out a laugh. "Thanks for the offer," he says, just slightly mocking because he knows Grayson actually means it, "but I think I'm good."

Grayson shrugs a shoulder, kind smile not fading. "Suit yourself. But he had a good time, and I did too, so thanks for coming."

Slade rolls his eye at the pun, but gives the kid an appraising look. He's shed the jacket and his shirt, dressed only in low-slung sweatpants. His scars shine silver against his darker skin, and he holds himself with an easy confidence.

Slade steps forward, closing the distance between them, and takes ahold of Grayson's arm. Grayson frowns, wary, but doesn't pull away.

"If you're ever interested in getting a taste of your own medicine," Slade murmurs lowly, "you're welcome to come and find me. I'm sure you bruise just as prettily as your boy."

Grayson smirks at him and looks up at him through his lashes. "And if _you're_ ever interested in flipping your script, you know where to find _me._ I'm sure you'll break the same way my boy does."

Then he pulls his arm out of Slade's grasp, turning and walking back down the hall without another word.

Slade snorts, shaking his head, and heads for the door.

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts? XD


End file.
